


where you don't see me

by arcanamagnus



Series: known menaces [1]
Category: Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Masturbation, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Reminiscing, do not be fooled this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanamagnus/pseuds/arcanamagnus
Summary: Dead End thinks about what he wants. It continues to elude him.
Relationships: Breakdown/Dead End (Transformers), Dead End/Drag Strip, Dead End/Perceptor (Transformers), Dead End/Wildrider (Transformers)
Series: known menaces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674862
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	where you don't see me

**Author's Note:**

> this is like the quickest thing i've written so i can't guarantee it's good but. pining dead end who Yearns to be held. that's it

It'd become routine, after the wall was torn down and Decepticon and Autobot alike were allowed free roam of the planet, for Dead End to just sit around in a dark corner of Maccadam's and watch mechs go about their lives. Most of all, to watch  _ Perceptor _ , who'd so unexpectedly inherited the place, go about his business.

He knew that even without optics Perceptor must have known he was there, that he stayed from just after opening to just before closing with the same mug of energon and no company to speak of, but he'd never remarked on it, too busy with a rowdy and noisy clientele to pay any mind to a wistful Dead End. And that was fine by him.

Dead End bristled at the thought of reciprocation. At the same time his spark soared with hopeful emotion, his processor readily supplied all the ways Perceptor was going to disappoint him. It hurt, but he couldn't help it.

And thus it hurt, oh so much, when he accidentally dozed off and missed his cue to leave that one night.

He awoke to a soft tap on his shoulder, helm fins standing to attention at the mention of his name. Dead End’s voicebox activated with a confused “mrrp?” as he took in the situation. That was  _ Perceptor’s _ hand on him and he was so,  _ so softly _ telling him the bar was closed for the night.

That turned out to be a little too much for him to handle. Yes, he managed to save face and escape without any unintended consequences, but it felt as if the energon was burning in his lines. He got  _ caught _ . He drew attention to himself. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

But it had been so amazing to have Perceptor’s attention turned to him, to be touched deliberately — they’d  _ held hands _ before, but circumstance is key —, to be addressed so directly with no one else around… Pits, maybe he was just lonely.

The sorry state of his tiny apartment corroborated that story. Dead End didn’t stop to look at how bare everything was before throwing himself into bed and screaming into the memory foam. The charge of vorns of being alone sizzled in his temples and he was just. So. Tired. Of never getting what he wanted.

Dead End was uncooperative, pessimistic and almost  _ placid _ at times, but he did want, no matter how much he tried to run from himself. And he was always running, wasn’t he? He’d run from the parade, he’d run from this universe, he’d run from Perceptor, he’d just  _ run _ .

His optics fizzled, overbright, and he couldn’t contain the nasty, staticky sobs that welled up from his vocaliser.

_ Oh, great _ , he thought,  _ time for “depressed and horny”, I guess. _

He considered just letting the charge die, hole himself up under a blanket and not think about it, but he’d done just that so many times since he got separated from his team and he couldn’t take it anymore. Determined, and more than a bit miffed, he turned onto his back and, one hand over his face, let his panels come open. The noise it made was enough to make Dead End groan, though in resignation rather than pleasure.

His spike wasn’t very quick to pressurise, but Dead End had never been much of a spike mech anyway. Still, he moved his remaining hand to grasp it, pump it a little, recalling a memory of spiking Breakdown from behind while kissing his spoiler and slowly moving his hand on his spike. He tried to imagine himself in Breakdown’s place, under somebody who cared for him, who was content to give him whatever he wanted. He’d been that mech for so long, it’d be so good to just… This wasn’t working for him.

If he were to finally get what he wanted, Dead End would prefer it face to face. He did it from behind with Breakdown because his teammate couldn’t bear the eye contact, but in Dead End’s view it cut a little into the intimacy, even if it was great for jerking your partner off as you spike them.

He shifted, stretching his body further and then loosening his limbs, staring at the ceiling. He sighed, and decided to try a different approach. With both hands now, he reached for both his spike and his valve. He thought of Wildrider, that one time they tried to deepthroat him while fingering his valve. It’d been an interesting change of pace from the usual frantic riding that left Dead End with sore hips after, even if Wildrider kept gagging. They’d been so enthusiastic, so keen on having  _ fun _ every time they were with him, and while that was nice, it wasn’t doing it for him right now either.

He moaned in frustration, turning back on his front and rubbing his face on the memory foam. Fine, he’d try something else. Dead End lowered the hand that had been on his spike to his node, trying to settle on a rhythm with the hand fingering him. It reminded him of Drag Strip, of how she let him choose whether to spike or be spiked (he tended to favour being spiked) as long as  _ he _ did all the work, of bouncing carefully on her lap trying not to crush her aerodynamic frame under his weight and rubbing his node for that extra kick she wouldn’t give him. It was frustrating then, and it was frustrating now.

Truly angry now, Dead End hit his head against the bed again and again with a high pitched whine. Had all his previous sexual encounters really been so unsatisfactory? In all of them, he’d just gone along with whatever his partners wanted, and it’d been  _ fine _ , really, he loved them all the same, but it just didn’t hit right. He wanted… What did he want?

He thought back to the beginning of all this, to how Perceptor waking him up so gently had kickstarted this introspection. Maybe he wanted gentle? Like with Breakdown, but he wanted to be the one at his partner’s mercy, to be well and truly undone by someone’s (Perceptor’s?) love for him. Kinda like with Wildrider, but different in that he got to choose how his partner touched him, like a reversal of how he did it with Drag Strip. Now that? That could do it.

He laid on his side now, a hand down to his valve and another holding his face, thinking of Perceptor kissing his thighs, touching the folds of his valve with methodical purpose, telling him just how much he cared for him… He felt his optics flare behind their shutters again and  _ finally  _ he could actually get off.

He sank into the foam as his fans tried to expel all the heat that’d accumulated both from arousal and emotional overload. That’d been… enlightening. And so ridiculously far-fetched. What was he thinking, imagining Perceptor being so soft, emotional with him? He’d scarcely seen an emotional response from the bot, how dare he think that’d change for  _ him _ ?

Still, if he could continue to get Perceptor to acknowledge him like that… Maybe he’d overstay his welcome in Maccadam’s more often.


End file.
